But She Didn't Get The Chance
by madaboutcarla
Summary: Fic starting from the episode where Carla was raped - won't follow the show's SL
1. Chapter 1

**Rated M for swear words and references to rape/ sex.**

**This chapter is set on the 19th September 2011 - when Frank Raped Carla, but will not follow exactly the same SL as the show.**

**I don't own any characters.**

'I trust you, I opened up to you like I never had with any other other woman... and you.. you were using me' Frank said through gritted teeth, stuttering slightly, as he said the words.

'No I wasn't' Carla said, tears racing down her cheeks, her eyelashes sticking together as she blinked away the twars.

'You were using me to make your boyfriend jealous, a smokescreen, for your sordid little affair' Frank said, his voice rising, his anger becoming more evident.

'It's not true' Carla said, feeling deflated/

'And now you think you can just chuck me away, job done' Frank shouted. Swinging his arm aggressively in the air.

'Okay, I want you to go - now' Carla said, feeling a mixture of guilt, anger, pain, fear.

She walked to the door, with an aggressive stride, her body relaxing momentarily as she leaned her weight against the door, before pulling the latch to open it.

_But she didn't get the chance._

She hadn't seen the look in his eyes. His face frozen, eyes wide, but certainly not silent. The range inside him taking over. Leaving him still for a brief moment, before it took over him and worked its way into the physical.

_**He should have left, he should have stormed out the door. She should have sat down, collapsed onto the couch, tears grasping the mascara from her lashes and racking them down her cheeks. A cold glass of wine in her hand, downed to numb her feelings - guilt, anger, jealously ranging against each other. She should have woken up, ashamed. Walked into underworld, embarrassed. Plucked up the courage to tell everyone her wedding was off.**_

_But she didn't get the chance._

His force was immense. And unexpected. No sooner had she pulled the latch, his hand was over hers, then tightening around her wrist. Then pulling her round sharply. Her breath was taken from her. Her hair lashing round her as his force takes over. She is pinned to the door, his grasp ever tightening. He slams her again, against the door, her head jerking back and smacking the wood behind her. She doesn't have time to wince.

_She doesn't get the chance._

He presses her closer to the door. For a minute he stands there. Overbearing. Looking her straight in the eyes. Beads of sweat have formed on her neck and forehead and anxiety rushes through her body. Her cheeks are moist from the tears she has shed. She tried to wriggle free, but as she does so he glances down. Glances down at her leg. He looks at her again for a moment. She feels herself tense, as he moves his hand away from her wrist, using his elbow to hold it in place.

She shivers as his cold hand snakes down her skirt, reaching her lower thigh. Suddenly he grabs her, pinching her skin as he works his hand beneath her skirt and up her legs. She thinks to herself, why is she letting him do this to her. But something, something she can't explain has taken over her. Paralyzed her.

Fear.

She feels helpless. Lonely even. She wants to fight back. She wants to scream. She wants to slap him hard across the face and tell him to do one.

_But she doesn't get the chance._

She feels sick. She feels his hand creep silently up her groin. Feeling her. Groping her. Prodding her. She feels like a voodoo doll, at Franks mercy. His slimy hand strokes her breast.

No. Not stroke - that implies some tenderness.

His hand fumbles with her shirt and she flinches as his cold skin touches hers.

Before she knows it he he is unzipping his trousers. Another wave of nausea hits her as she watches him seemingly control her body. She is trapped inside unable to voice her fear and pain. His hands are round her waist and he slams her to the floor.

Does she black out for a second? She doesn't know. Before she knows it he is on top of her, aggressively moving against her, pinning her wrist to her side so she can't protect. He other arm, and the force of his weight pressing against her thighs so she can't move away. He doesn't look happy. He is angry. And getting angrier - by the feel of it. It hurts. It's sore. It's vile.

She shivers against the cold floor. She can't hear what he is saying. He is spitting aggressive words at her, gripping her wrists and arms and thighs. She closes her eyes. Waiting.

Waiting and waiting.

And then it stops. It isn't a relief. The pain doesn't go away. Her body aches. She feels a stinging pain, caused by his brutal entry.

She curls up, moving away from him as he stands, doing up his zip.

_**Caught up in this house**_

___**Trapped my very own self in the snare of my mind**_

_**No more space than a slither**_

_**What I'd give for deep breath inside**_

_**Where the chaos has me captive**_

_**Where there's no exit sign**_

_**Where I fuel the stupid fire with these feelings of mine**_

_**Lured into this den**_

_**It's bitter and I want the sweetness again**_

_**A taste that I agree with**_

_**Get me past these perils and to my Eden**_

_**Where the silence is a comfort**_

_**Where there is no one else**_

_**Where I'll be up from under and can uncurl myself.**_

_**He is panting, shallow breathes.**_

'It's your fault, you made me do it. He says. Craning forward slightly.

'Carla' he says, almost curiously. As his body moves closer to hers she flinches, in her fetal position she curls away from him.

And then he bolts. He leaves. Without a second thought, she uses her remaining strength to reach for the bolt and lock the door.

And then she slides down the door, her energy gone. Her body abused. Stolen from her. She sinks to the floor, pulling her legs against her chest. It hurts as she does it, but she wants to gather herself up, hid away.


	2. Chapter 2

Her heart was beating fast. But she couldn't feel it. The heavy thuds passed through her body, unnoticed. A soft pain was thrashing inside her. Her hand fell, in damp strands around her face. Her legs were cold, puce coloured bruises forming, turning her tanned legs into an artist's canvas.

Reality hits her like a smack in the face.

She doesn't have the strength to lift herself up from the cold floor. Despite the pain, she scrabbles weakly across the floor, like a child. She reaches up and puts a shaking hand into her bag, searching for her a phone. She slides down the counter, gathering her legs up and holding them against her. She can feel a slight breeze through the flimsy, torn fabric of her blouse. The buckled of her belt is digging into her middle, a continuation of the pain she can feel between her legs. A pain she is trying desperately to ignore.

But she can't.

She is struggling. She doesn't know who she is. She is lost. She is confused. She can't believe it.

She searched through the contacts of her phone, her thumb hovering over the call button as she stops at Maria's number.

She needs her. She really needs her.

'Hello?' Maria's voice echoes loudly in her ear.

There is a slight pause.

'Maria... it's Carla' a shaky, broken voice replies.

'Oh yeah what do you want?' Maria says, the disappointment evident in her tone.

Maria hears sniffing, breathing before a desperate voice breaks through.

'Can you, um, come here?' Carla says. The sentence takes a while to come out. It is broken, and heavy.

Pain.

'Hang on. Kirk turn the telly down. Are you okay? What's happened?' Maria asks, picking up on Carla's laboured breathing, the sniffing and the tears.

'Please' is all Carla can reply with. She has no more words to say. She has been destroyed.

'Yeah okay I'll be right round' Maria says, unsure of what's happened.

Carla's body gives up on her. SHe puts the phone down and sits there, shaking. The pain floods her body in irregular waves. She is cold. She can feel the icy floor beating against her skin. She isn't really sure where she is. She can still see the anger in his eyes, feel the terror of his fists, his weight against her. She doesn't want to think about it, but it like she has blinkers on, and a large tv screen replaying what she has just experience over, and over and over.

'I'm going to Carla's Kirk, I told ya' Maria says getting into her car.

'What are you going there for?' Kirk asks.

'I don't know, somethings happened, I'll call you when I get there' Maria replies, annoyed by her brothers naivety.

Peter hears this, and immediately finds himself getting involved. His concern too much to ignore.

'Maria, is Carla alright?' he asks.

'I don't know Peter, er I've gotta go' Maria says.

'I'll come with you' Peter says without thinking.

Maria looks at him, slightly confused but shrugs and agrees.

'I'll drive' he offers.

She is confused by his need to be involved, but she just wants to get this over and done with so allows Peter to get into the drivers seat.

Carla jumps as she hears a knock on the door. It startles her.

Is it him. Please, don't let it be. She can't see him again. Will he do it again.

'Who is it?' she asks.

'It's me, Maria, the door was open downstairs' she says. Peter is parking the car, Maria has gone ahead.

Carla is relieved to hear a familiar voice. But she feels dead. She drags herself across the floor, trying not to move too much, as the pain is becoming more acute. She lets out a little cry as she agitates on of her bruises. She unlocks the door, and falls backwards, everything coming back to her.

Maria opens the door, concerned when she sees Carla on the floor. She looks awful. Her face is white, the blood drained from her skin. Her blouse is torn, her arms mottled with deep, dark bruises. So are her legs. But most of all, she doesn't look like Carla. She looks lifeless. Her eyes are empty. She looks like a child, an abused, battered child. Neglected.

She is breathing heavily. Raspy. She is shaking.

'He did this didn't he' Maria says.

A teary Carla nods, a silent confirmation.

'Yeah, he raped me. He raped me' she managed to say, before the tears begin to flood from her eyes, steaming down her cheeks. As she says the words her body twitches. She feels sick. She is going to be sick.

Suddenly she finds herself swaddled in a warm embrace. Safe. Comforting.

**_May I hold you_**

**_As you fall to sleep_**

**_When the world is closing in_**

**_And you can't breathe_**

Maria is rubbing her back. Holding her head. Cradling her. She might not like Carla, but suddenly the woman who she always known as a hard faced, sharp dragon, has crumbled before her. Reduced to a quivering wreck. She has had her soul ripped from her body.

Suddenly there is another person in the room. A tall, dark, handsome man. The man she loves. The reason for all this. Peter.


	3. Chapter 3

She knows. She knows he wont hurt her. He wouldn't lay a finger on her.

But she didn't think Frank would ever hurt her. He loved her. Madly. Deeply. Passionately. She'd let him down. It was her fault. She deserved it.

It took her a moment to register Peter. She felt **exposed** and hid in Maria's embrace.

He was unsure of exactly what had happened. But he knew something bad. He couldn't really see the bruises on Carla's limbs, he couldn't see her rip in her shirt. But he could see the glamorous, sexy, confident woman he was so fond of beaten down to a frail wreck on the floor.

He moved forward, and couldn't ignore the look of fear that washed over Carla's eyes.

'Carla, what has happened?' he asks, concerned.

She shakes in Maria's arms.

'No, please.. go... you can't see my like this' she says, her voice quavering.

'Carla it's me, tell me' Peter says, looking at Maria. He crouches down next to them.

Carla moves closer to Maria.

'Don't' Maria says putting her hand protectively around Carla, gesturing for Peter to back off a little.

He frowns. He gasps as his eyes fall to Carla's bruised legs tucked beneath her.

'Has he done this, has he battered you?' Peter said, anger rising in his voice.

'We need to call the police' Maria says, cutting the tense atmosphere.

'I'll fucking smash his face in if I see him' Peter says, his hackles up.

'No... pl..ease..' Carla says, her voice laced with fear.

'Carla, can you get up?' Maria asks pulling away from her.

'Don't let me go' Carla murmers.

'It's okay, I wont' Maria says.

'It.. hurt...s' Carla managed to say, tears gushing from her eyes.

'Oh god, should I call an ambulance' Maria says.

Carla doesn't reply.

Peter then realizes what has happened. She's been **raped**. He hadn't realized before, but he can see from the fetal position she is in that she is hiding away. Her arm holding her legs against her.

She is in pain. It is **obvious**.

'Oh god no, no, he can't.. he wouldn't' Peter said, the anger in his voice replaced with genuine disgust, fear, hatred, concern.

He looks down at Carla. She is shaking. He wants to hold her. Comfort her. **Love** her. But he can't. She wont let him.

Maria dials the number and calls the police. Peter is pacing the flat, half of him wants to go out and knock Frank's lights out. But he can't leave Carla here.

'Don't... look at me.. Peter' Carla whispers.

**Her words are too sad to bear.**

'This isn't your fault' he says.

'Just look.. away' she says, wishing his soft, warm eyes would stop looking at her.

He doesn't argue. She is too fragile. He nods and turns around. Maria helps Carla up. She lets out a distressing cry as the pain intensifies as she walks to the couch.

Peter can't help but look. He winces as he sees her visible pain. Mental and physical.

She is walking in a shy, sad, shuffle. How could he do this. She was so beautiful, **perfect**, precious. She was lovely. How could he have raped her.

She is sitting on the couch. Lifeless. Her eyes are dead. She is watching the door. Waiting for him to come back. Come back to finish her. She doesn't feel like Carla anymore. Who is she.

'Poor thing. He is evil' Maria said to Peter.

'He is scum. I want to kill him' Peter said.

'And how would that help her?' Maria sighed.

'Oh god, this isn't happening' Peter said. He was trying to hid his emotions but he was struggling. Only this morning he and Carla had exchanged harsh words. He felt slightly responsible. How could anyone do this to her. He watched her sitting silently on the couch.

Could it be... no how could he? He felt a strong feeling deep inside him. He wanted to hold her, never let her go. He wanted to protect her. Tell her it would be alright.

**Tell he loved her.**


	4. Chapter 4

Peter watched helplessly as Carla flinches as the buzzer rang.

He watched as her face crumpled, her body shifting deeper into the sofa. She was **scared**.

He wandered if he should sit beside her, but he picked up that she didn't feel comfortable, she knew it was him, she loved him, so deeply, the intensity of her love coursing through her veins, all day every day, but he was a man, he reminded her of Frank in ways she wished he didn't.

'It's the police' Maria said and Peter nodded opening the door.

A female officer came into the flat.

'Carla' she said gently sitting beside her. Carla was still, as though she was dead.

'Carla' she repeated, gently placing her hand on Carla's shoulder. Carla **shuddered** at her touch.

'It's okay. I'm PC Lynda Heary, I am a nightingale trained officer, I deal specifically with reports of cases of **rape** and sexual assault' the office said.

The word **rape** hit Carla like a smack in the face. She twitched uncomfortably as the she processed the word.

'May I?' the office said sitting beside Carla.

Carla nodded, shifting slightly.

The officer turned to Peter.

'Are you sure you should be here' she said.

'I.. I'm her friend' Peter said.

The officer smiled. 'I understand, it's just, this might be difficult for Carla' she said.

Peter looked at Carla. She didn't seem to be aware of anyone. She was sitting there, one hand protectively placed on her chest. She was bitting her lip, her other hand scratching persistently at her thigh.

'Please, I'll just sit here' he said, wanting to be there for Carla, even if it was only silently.

'Carla, is that okay?' she asked Carla.

'Carla' she repeated when she got no answer.

Carla nodded, unaware of the question.

'When did this happen?' she asked.

'Just before you came, tonight' Maria said.

'Please, I need to hear it from Carla' the officer said.

'Tonight.. today' Carla murmured.

'And have you showered, or changed since then?' she asked.

Carla shook her head. She jittered uncomfortably in her seat.

'I know you must feel very uncomfortable right now, but CID are on there way, we need you to stay as you are so we can preserve as much evidence as possible' the officer said.

'Who attacked you Carla?' the officer continued.

'**Scum**, that's who' Peter said speaking up.

The officer shot him a glance.

'Frank.. my.. business partner.. and fiance.. well, not any more' Carla said trailing off.

The officer nodded.

'Have you known him long?' she asked,

'About a year' Carla said taking a deep breathe.

'Yeah and he tried it on with me too, before.. but I got away' Maria said.

Carla closed her eyes. Wishing she had **listened** to Maria. She had been the naive one this time.

Peter looked up.

'What? You mean he has form.. how on earth' he said angrily.

'I'm sorry. Maria... I should have listened' Carla said, coming back to reality, the realization of what had just happened to her taking over.

Maria sighed. 'You weren't to know.. not really' she said.

'How could you let her be with him, not tell anyone?' Peter suddenly shouted, aiming his comment at Maria.

Slightly taken back by Peters aggression Maria snapped back 'I did tell her, what could I have done' she said.

Carla sat quivering on the sofa. Peter's bitter tone, although not aimed at her, far from it, it shed light on how much he cared for her, but it reminded her of Frank. Suddenly she could see Frank, his arms around her, holding her, **suffocating** her.

'No, no, no' she suddenly **screamed** putting her hands over her ears.

The officer stood up 'I think you two better leave, your not helping her' she said.

'I'm sorry, Carla I'm sorry' Peter said, without thinking rushing up to put his arms around her, to sooth her.

**Bad move.**

His sudden embrace shocked Carla. She **brutally** stood up, screaming 'Get away from me, don't touch me' and rushed into a corner of the room.

The officer was used to dealing with frantic victims, but the intensity of the fear in Carla's voice made her shudder. 'Can you wait outside' she said directly to Peter.

He felt awful. It was tearing his heart out to watch Carla so frightened, **fragile**, **scared** and in **pain**. And he felt awful, he had just frightened her.

'I'm sorry' he said, his comment directed to everyone in the room. He moved to stand outside, he knew Carla needed space.

This was mad. Insane. **What was happening?**

Carla howled in a corner of the room. Her emotions were spinning out of control.

Maria apologized and went to sit beside her. She pulled her in to a tight hug and held her until she ran out of tears.

The CID arrived and questioned Carla. She said what she could, but she was tired and they knew she couldn't go on much longer.

Maria stole a moment and went outside. 'Peter' she said.

'I'm sorry... it's just...' he said, his face pale and drawn.

'I know.. I didn't realize you and her were.. close' she said.

'Yeah, we are good friends.. I can't take this Maria, how could he do it?' Peter said.

'I don't know... I've never seen her.. like this' Maria said.

'It's **killing** me' Peter said struggling to hide his feelings for her.

Maria frowned a little registering the strength of Peter and Carla's bond, but now wasn't the time to mention it.

'We are taking Carla to the station now' one of the officers said.

Peter nodded. 'I'm coming with her' he said.

'No, I think it is best that you left us. We need to find Frank, don't you go looking for him' she said.

'Please, let me come' Peter said, knowing he would struggle not to go and kill Frank himself.

'No, Carla needs your support. This is tough for her Peter, go home' Maria said, knowing Carla hated Peter seeing her like this.

Peter sighed, but nodded. He desperately wanted to go in and hold her and tell her it would be okay. But he couldn't.

He watched as Carla was taken downstairs to a car. She clung to herself, arms around her chest. Her face so sad. So **beautiful**.

He followed them down, some police remaining behind to do forensics on the flat.

And then Carla stopped dead in her tracks. A confused looking Frank stood before her.

'Carla? What's going on?' he asked.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Sorry for the very long gap in-between chapters. I've been having major (and I mean major!) writers block, but I really wanted to update this, so here you go, it isn't very good, I'm finding it hard to get into to, but hopefully it will pick up soon. I also have exams at the moment so I can't promise anything too soon, but by the 1st of Feb I should hopefully be writing like mad again!**_

**Rooted** to the spot. Shivers beating down her spine. She felt her legs collapse beneath her, yet she was still standing. Her eyes met his.

**Bewildered**. **Confused**. **Harmless**.

That's what he tried to convey.

'Carla, I asked you what on earth is going on?' he said, stepping forward.

'Excuse me, are you Frank Foster?' the officer said. Frank nodded slightly.

Carla choked back a **sunken** sob as the officer said his name. Maria's arm wrapped gently around Carla's waist.

'How could you do it Frank, how?' Maria asked.

'Do what? Carla, what on earth has happened?' he asked, **mock** concern.

'Mr Foster, I'm arresting you for the rape of Carla Connor, you do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence' the officer said, walking up to Frank.

Frank stepped forward slightly, a moment of **menacing** anger flashing across his eyes.

'Carla, why?' Frank said, softly.

Carla was speechless. Still rooted to the spot, unable to move, her heart racing.

'You know what you've done. The innocent **act** doesn't wash with us' Maria said.

Usually Peter would have been quick to throw a punch at Frank, his passion and the feelings he was **harbouring** for Carla fueling his aggression. But he found himself unusually silent, still, quiet. His gaze traveled between Carla and Frank. Frank was playing the victim. Wide eyes, stuttering.

All Peter saw was a violent, pathetic **monster**.

His gaze moved back to Carla. He could see her **silently** trembling. His heart was pumping heavy beats of love**. Love** that was only for one person. For **Carla**.

Frank was bundled into the police car, and whisked of, away from from the scene of his crime.

'Carla, he's gone now, come on, we need to get you to the station' the officer said gently to Carla.

'He.. I, I can't do this' Carla said, biting her lip, trying to stop the tears from slipping down her cheeks.

Carla's quivering voice, and terrified **demeanor** were enough to make Peter move. He stepped forward, gently approaching Carla from behind.

'Carla' he said, his gruff voice awash with **apprehension**.

She was scared, nervous, horrific images of Frank flickering through her brain, but his voice, laced with care and **affection** brought her back down to earth, just for a moment. She turned her head slightly, allowing her eyes to meet his. It broke his heart to see the pain lodged so **deep**. He reciprocated her **trust**, his eyes saying more than words ever could.

Only hours ago he had visited her, seeking comfort in the bottle after she had called of her wedding. She'd snapped at him and told him to go back to his wife and child. And he had. And now he **wished** he hadn't.

It was as though his love for her, had been lost, his unconscious hiding it, **camouflaging** it deep in side him, and her pain had forced him to open his eyes and find it.

'I'm really **sorry**' he said, causing her gaze to drop to the floor.

Without another word he watched her, lead to the car, and driven away to the police station.

He'd tried to be strong for her. But the realization of what had happened to her made him feel **sick** beyond belief. She had needed him, wanted him, loved him. And he hadn't shown her that he felt the same. Guilt flooded his body, his lungs **burning** with the bitter air he drew into them.

He swore loudly and kicked the curb with his foot , before sitting angrily down on the curb, outside Carla's flat. Police still on the seen, he looked up to Carla's window, an amber glow, so homely and inviting. What a facade. It was a crime seen, the place where Carla had been so brutally violated. Thrown against the wall, shaken, pressed against the floor. **Raped**.


End file.
